


It's 2am, Why am I still doing this?

by VioletAnarkist



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Multi, Slow To Update, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:57:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletAnarkist/pseuds/VioletAnarkist
Summary: short and fluffy,maybe?I just sorta idea dump and y'all get to see the resultsI guess I'll update tags as I go...
Relationships: AuthRight/Ancom, Libertarian/Ancap, Minarchist/Hoppean, authleft/ancap
Comments: 29
Kudos: 87





	1. “Is that blood?”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't expect much,  
> I'm doing this cuz I can't get to sleep and it's stressing me out  
> so instead I write till I wanna fall dead  
> cuz it's the only good thing at the moment  
> I'm sorry is this is shite, I know...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authleft/Ancap  
> maybe... just a bit

“Is that blood?”

Ancap, who stood in the doorway, a perplexed expression dancing across his face.  
He was staring across the room at the hulking man as he scoured the bookshelf with a deeply enthralled expression.

The sudden question from their ideological opposite seemed to snap him out of his trance of concentration, replaced as he adopted a more confused domina, turning to face Ancap from where he stood across the living space. But no amount of confusion could hide the trickle running down the side of his head it stood out clear as day not hidden by his ushanka.

The sharp intake of breath as Ancap stared at him seemed to remind Commie of what he was doing as he frowned and, following Ancaps eyes (they were uncovered thankfully) he raised his had to the side of his face. A dazed look as he touched something wet.

Drawing his hand away from his face he saw bright red-coated his fingers, as he stared at the blood a slightly puzzled expression bloomed. He looked up at Ancap as he stood diligently in the doorway waiting for a response (although he didn’t need one) eyebrows raised.

“Yes?”

The hair on the back of Ancap’s neck stood on end as he stared at Commie reflecting those puzzled scarlet eyes with his own golden confusion.

“That is not a question you should be answering with another question.”

A good-humoured smile seemed to play across his face as he walked out confidently into the living area. Immediately walking over to the first-aid kid (they had to install one after Ancoms last accident) and began walking over to Commie with the same confidence he always held. The condescending white-toothed grin (similar to a foxed smile) was prevalent across his face.

Commie carryed on looking perplexed as Ancap approached him, the man seemed slightly dazed as though having just woken from a deep sleep. He stared at Ancap with this child-like wonder as he approached.

“Sit down, otherwise, I’m not going to help you, leave you to your Anarkiddy.”

He was meant to sound condescending but it fell just beyond sounding like a friendly jab. The man stood about 20cm shorter so it was no surprise he wanted him to sit, the surprise as he was willingly helping him. 

But Commie was too dazed to be thinking critically as he immediately stumbled over and sat down, in the light wooden chair used next to the small study table in the corner of the room, it was right next to the bookcase and directly next to Ancap. So it only took a few seconds.

When he was sat Ancap immediately set to work. He placed the box down on the table and opened it so that the content was easily accessible before he set to work examining the bloodstain on the side of his head.

“So, what happened?”

He was upbeat, although his words still held that condescending drawl that made him rather difficult for most to talk to him without storming off angrily. It wasn’t his fault he talked like that. But secretly he loved the way he could be above someone just because of the way he talked.

A few heartbeats passed in which time he had located the cut. It was a nasty but manageable size just beyond hit temple. It was straight and clean, like a knife or a claw. But it was in an extremely odd place.

“Door.”

His response was short and to the point, no beating around the bush with this idiot. He was so flat it was difficult to have a conversation with, although never Ancap nor Commie really wanted to talk to each other (or at least that’s what they told themselves). Delicately Ancap grabbed a cotton bud and applied a bit of rubbing alcohol, he went back to Commies’ head with no trouble. Commie was still a bit dazed eyes slightly misted over and his body language was still a bit stuttery and sharp.

Ancap smiled lightly as he looked at the large man, hunched over in the chair like a child.

“Well if you weren’t so goddam tall, maybe we wouldn’t be in this position.”

He said with a light laugh as he got a second cotton-bud, just in case, he wiped the wound once again, getting really close to Commie as he was fidgeting slightly under the appraising eye of Ancap. The soft smile playing on his lips was rather cute although Ancap would never admit it and the way Ancap stared at him made something in Commie feel like it was going to burst with joy. 

Both men looked away quickly, Ancap stopping for a moment to gather himself before going to grab a plaster with a quick exasperated sigh. 

He returned to Commies temple but he was staring at the floor intently. This would have been fine with Ancap; if it were not for the fact that he couldn’t get to the cut on the side of the Communist’s head. Instead of saying something, like a normal person, he did, what was probably not the best move, and lifted Commie’s face with his free hand, making him look at him. Strictly because of the plaster though. 

The deserted living space followed the moves of the two with a bord focus, lazily sitting, observing these uncommon pair interact peacefully, for the first time in what seemed like weeks. They were home alone, so there was no need to worry if a nosy roommate would walk on this strange display. Ancap held on to his chin a few moments longer than necessary before releasing, so he could place the plaster over the cut. Long fingers, light and soft next to the gruff well-worn skin of the hard-working communist, actually placing the plaster so as not to touch the wound. He frowned slightly as it did not entirely cover the seeping wound, and sighing went to the box once again to grab a second plaster.

While he was turned Commie stared at him with bewilderment, the man who he believed heartless was just casually helping him, he was sobered up enough to realize that was not normal. His lips were parted slightly, red eyes fixed on Ancap with this same confusion, when he turned back. When he made eye contact he saw the befuddled expression on Commies face and a light smile grew across his lips.

“Stop looking at me like I just summoned a ghost. I’m only doing this so you can’t sue me.”

His words held the twinkle of laughter behind them as he carried on applying the second plaster to the blood-stained cut. commie‘s eyes still fixed on him with that confused expression. He was cute in a strange way, like a puppy walking on grass for the first time. Ancap sighed before turning to grab a cotton bud. Applying a little more rubbing alcohol and then turning to wipe at the stain left on the side of his head, so close to commie he could feel his breath on his cheek, he leaned in slowly.

A crash came as someone kicked in the front door. Ancap drew back with shock as Ancom came barreling into the livings space bouncing like an excited child. Their hair was standing on end and they moved around and around in a dizzying pattern without rhyme or reason,

“Hey! Hey hey hey!”

They were a ball of barely contained energy as they came barreling to a stop next to me and Commie. The room seemed to sink back to its normal state, as Ancap stared at Commie with slight bemusement. Watching as he tried keeping up with what had just happened. Slowly he turned to Ancom,

“What is it Anarkiddy?”

He was still a little light but he was just about normal, as he began to talk to the exited Ancom, Ancap looked at the pair for a few moments before turning away, frowning in what seemed like disappointment glinting out from beneath his sunglasses, as he slunk quietly away retreating to his room. No looking back. But Commie stared at him for a few moments longer, when he turned his back to leave, a frown playing upon his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Ancom asked concern evident in their voice as they stopped abruptly to lean into Commie eyes fixed on him with that ever empathetic demeanour.

“Its nothing.”

Commie responded automatically, turning back to Ancom with a light smile

“What were you talking about, something that… Anarcho-Syndicalism?”

Ancom’s concerned expression persisted for a few moments longer before they shrugged it off and went back to what they were talking about. But Commie was still wondering what Ancap was doing, stopping him from paying very much attention.


	2. "stop moving I'm braiding your hair."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nazi gets woken up by a high Ancom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna be honest I wrote this over more sessions than I can be bothered to count...  
> depressing.  
> this ain't had any overview reading so I'm sorry if it's shite.
> 
> also gender swap Authright and fem presenting Ancom  
> they like each other if you squint

The room was quiet as Nazi curled up on the couch, the WW2 documentary playing in the background long over, it was about 2 in the morning and no one was meant to be home until Monday. It was just her and Ancom in the house, both Commie and Ancap had had their reservations about leaving the pare unauthorized but as they would be paying for damages and both had begrudgingly promised to at least try not to start an all-out war, they were left home alone.

Nazi was sat sleeping soundly when she felt her hair being lightly pulled similar to the way her grandma used to do when she was dropped off at her house with her brother, they used to sit in the living space and listen to Grandad’s stories while she got her hair all done up in neat little bows and ribbons. her Grandad would show medals and other odd bits to her brother. It was always so peaceful and relaxing the memory warm and fuzzy to her. 

But she knew her grandparents had died years ago so what the hell was pulling her hair? in that sleepy sluggish state she turned her head away, in an attempt to stop whatever was pulling on her hair and possibly even see it. This attempt was foiled by a more firm pull on her hair, not enough for it to hurt but enough to stop her from trying to get away, she was still so tired and all this pulling and motion was extremely confusing to her slow sleep-deprived brain.

“Shhh…”

A slurred but gentile voice hummed, a playful tone to their words.

“S-Stop fussing.”

Another singsong murth filled murmur, so heavy with euphoria it was almost contagious, bubbling over the edges of her brain capacity, touching something light and airy as its soft tone spread through the room. Infectious.

“I-I-I’m jussst trying. To braid. Your hair!”

The voice went a slight bit higher as they struggled to get out the rest of the request, order? It was hard to distinguish for my slowly rebooting my brain, the weight of sleep dragging me down, making it hard to think. 

What the fuck? Who was braiding my hair? Where am I? The questions formed in my brain before scattering like birds gathered in a square approached by a stranger. It was like trying to keep water in my hands, the brain function needed to answer my rapidly dissolving questions, seemed to illude me at every attempt.

What did it matter though? I should be dead by now. If they wanted me dead… 

But as I tried to distinguish who that could be the realization hit, that it was a shockingly small pool of people to choose from, (no one respected the higher truth I preach or they are brainwashed cucks) for the few individuals I could choose from I couldn’t imagine a single one of them trying to braid my hair or really approach me while I was unconscious, possibly waking me up, but not braiding my hair, at some hideous hour of the night, I might suppose,

“What the…”

My usually rather sweet voice was now gravely with sleep, ringing out into the room, heavy and confused as I continued to struggle. Once again pulling my head away to try figure out who it was and possibly figure out where my gun was,

“I said… stop fussing. I’m trying to braid… your hair.”

They were clearly disgruntled and less excitable at my continued attempts to escape. But the person was somewhat familiar, to the back of my mind their whiny voice hit a cord, it wasn’t a familiar cord but it wasn’t any sort of danger. So feeling slightly safer (as I would never allow a dangerous person to remain in my vicinity for an extended amount of time, without a few bullets being introduced to their skull) I relaxed slightly, I was still confused about what was going on, but at least I knew the person who was struggling with my hair was an ally of some sorts.

“What’s the time…”

My voice was still heavy with sleep, clinging to the scratching undertones but now it was a bit smoother, easier to the ear. Sweeter, more honed familiar. the pulling of my long blond hair continued as I was still gathering the brainpower to think coherently.

“I don’t know… like 4…”

The voice once again was familiar and now it really did strike a chord. The sense of my hair being pulled and manoeuvred easily the nimble hands. Nimble. Ant the time was…

“In the morning?”

My voice was easer now, clearer, and I felt like something was both absolutely perfect and also extremely wrong. The world began to fold in as I once again tried to turn to the person braiding my hair. Shuffling myself up straighter with some effort as the sleep in my eyes began to crumble, the blurry room becoming clearer. They stopped me by holding my head straight, still. As they continued to pull my hair around 

“Yea…”

Their voice was still whiny and high, but now a new form of recognition held within their tone. I was floored for a moment before realisation hit me like a ton of bricks. I properly tried to yank my head around, disregarding of the pain, to look at them.

Ancom was sat crosslegged, locks of blond hair mostly braided held in their hands, loosely, as I had just pulled my hair out of their grasp with the sudden revolution. They had a confused expression and their eyes were tinged red, lids drooping and the green within glittering in the dim light like tiny jewels in the darkroom. They sat staring at me with a slightly pouty expression, brow furrowed slightly.

“I said don’t move. I’m braiding your hair.”

They seemed none the wiser to my sudden onset of rage, as I stared at them in abject horror. They were struggling to pull my hair back together to continue the bride, their black and red painted fingernails in contrast with blond hair, weaving in and out seamlessly, amazing compared to their clearly degenerate state of being.

They made a gentle humming as they folded hair strand over strand. They were gazing, glossy-eyed, at the task, with this absent smile simple and sweet drawn across their face to a delicate point. It was soothing, dragging me down to this similar state of calm as I now partially watched them work. They had short cut hair, head bowed so I could only see the top, but they had long lashes, hooding them slightly. 

“Why are you like this?”

My question didn’t seem to faze the anarchist as they continued to braid, the room began to swirl, colours blending like I had been submerged underwater and there was no way I could figure out what up was,

“What did you think doing this would cause?”

All the question did was hang in the air, my sleepy feeling almost all cleared up as I waited for them to even acknowledge my questions. I was still swimming in that confusing tank, no way to go up just trying not to drown. I watched their delicate facial features blend, scrunching in concentration.

“Do you even realise how EASY it would have been... for you. To- to finish me... off?”

That question stuck in my throat, stopping me from saying it without a fight, I heaved a sigh as they continued to braid when they weren’t whing they were actually… no. no. I’m not. I’m not a faggot.

They looked up at me with those droopy red-rimmed eyes, green gems sparkling within, their round face was small and sweet playful smile now etched into their skin like the bark of a tree trunk. their golden brown skin soft. I stared at them now, my head turned as they held my almost fully braided hair in a loose grip, the sloppy work at the beginning getting better the further down the braid got.

“Ya know, I wish you’d stop worrying so much…”

Their easy answer, their relaxed body language their soft smile. It put me at ease as I looked into their eyes.

“But I can’t, what if something bad happens, what if they win… what if I lose everything… again...”

My voice was small, I couldn’t help it, it was 4 in the morning and I felt so shit and small and weak, the swimming swirling patterns filling the room went still, but the way the colours blended and all the weird distorted curves they followed stayed, frozen but they were in my peripherals. I swallowed as Ancom looked at me with their light easy expression,

“Then we make them give it back… or we build it up again.”

The optimism they spoke with was unrivalled in any capacity, I watched as their eyes sparkled and the world around them seemed so beautiful. I felt sick at my self but I shuffled forward anyway, reaching out to touch their chin with my delicate pale fingers, piano-player fingers. 

They melted into my fingers, the easy way they touched the gentleness of their motions, it was all so new to me, slowly they raised a hand and pulled a hair tie out of thin air, a cheeky smile still on their face dancing in the dim light. 

“Gotta tie your hair off before we can chat any more.”

Time could stand still, I wouldn’t notice the difference when I was with Ancom, every second felt like an age but also a moment, like a snapshot of time painting on a wall, to last forever but the artist’s name will be forgotten. Talking to Ancom was its own art form, new and interesting and fantastical. The easy they lived with was infectious, and the cue way they acted was endearing. it was a short time before they fell back to sleep lidded eyes closing as they settled down to sleep, possibly till midday, but it didn’t bother me as for, at that moment, sat on the couch at 4 am with Ancom curled head in my lap as we both lightly dozed, I knew that when tomorrow came I would have to deny it all, but for tonight the braid in my hair pressed against my back and Ancoms head was resting in my lap. And I was content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's now 3:00 and I wanna die,  
> but I have a shitty short thing that I like the concept of...  
> so whatever
> 
> YEET my will to live


	3. come to bed, it's cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short and fluffy  
> (although I don't know how to write fluff)  
> Ancap/Libertarian  
> cuz like the fandom is just realising their husbands  
> UwU I have no fucking clue what I'm doing

The night was cool, damp air hung in the cracked concrete streets as the crooked unstable lamps flickered dimly against the flashing dazzling plethora of bright lights, flaring out from the tall smoke-shrouded buildings. The air hung thick with toxic fumes weighing heavily on the lungs of the people who tracked dejectedly dragging their feet down the battered unstable pathways. Heads hung low as they stumbled through the bright sparkly night. 

Within one of the tall skyscrapers lit by LED lights, dazzling out advertising for music and bars and all number of other businesses, were an apartment, built of marble and cold stone the walls a 180-degree view of the maddening bustling city below. 

A man sat on the large sectional sofa. Soft and plush, it curved around the central television, soft grey against white marble floors. The room was a lukewarm temperature, barely heated as no one was supposed to be awake to need it. 

Libertarian sat hunched over, hand gripping loosely on an ancient box phone, mumbling thoughtfully down the receiver, sleep weighing heavy on his words as he struggled to stay awake, top hat discarded on the glass table in front of him as he wrestled with the ever-present want for sleep. He spoke to what felt like a countless list of faceless contacts, watching blindly as the clock ticked along, slow and steady, each passing second dragging on longer and longer as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Writing on a small booklet lent on one knee, shaky hand. The room felt void and soulless, as he continued the mumbled chant.

“Sweetheart…”

A soft affluent voice, calling gently from somewhere down the corridor. Libertarian continued mumbling not noting the call from his lover, his eyes still fixed on the clock, he was shivering slightly as he continued to debate over the phone. Soft and breathy.

The corridor fell silent for a few moments as the owner of the voice waited for a response. The seconds hung heavy and silent apart from the endless mumbling drone of Libertarians’ late-night business. 

It isn’t uncommon for one of the pare to stay up till the early hours working and calling but Ancap was getting tired of the late nights, he’d forgotten the last time he had actually gone to sleep with Libertarian next to him. 

Stumbling down the dark corridor, the pyjama-clad man, guided by his hands, made his way towards the mumbling voice. 

He still wore his sunglasses, (even though it prohibited his vision even more than the darkness) being the little shit he was, he knew it drove Libertarian up the wall, not being able to see his eyes nor tell what he was thinking by reading the tiny shifts in expression, etched into his face or the drifting of his eyes or whatever other witchcraft the man would pull without a second thought. He was a perceptive idiot, not being able to understand hints that Ancap had liked him for the longest fucking time, but also immediately recognising when the capitalist was lying with a short simple glance and considerate look, unlocking all the secrets that were bottled up inside but never pushing for the reliance always giving time. Just another reason he loved him Ancap would suppose on those occasions.

Ancap discovered him in the living space, where he had been earlier before he had left, heading to bed and possibly sleep. He had laid awake watching stocks waiting for the other to join him, but the man had not for an elongated period of time, so he took it into his own hands. 

Libertarians hand was still on his phone, head bowed (that must get uncomfortable), but now he had a different notebook, a pale yellow one, from his angle he could see a few numbers and what looked like a web address. Ancap sighed laboriously, staring at the back of his head as he waited for the other to register his presence. The less than warm room, touching his bones with its chill, sapping the heat from him, like some states leech.

“Sweetheart.”

Ancaps voice broke the gentle mumbling drone that had filled the space for so long-standing out clear for the first time in hours, a different call. Libertarian jolted slightly, surprised by Ancap's sudden entrance, but he picked up the conversation a few moments after, eyes fixed on the taller man, eyebrows raised as Ancap scrambled over the back of the couch unceremoniously landing with a muffled “oof” in the soft mound of pillows. His sunglasses slipping into the piles of pillows, he didn’t really notice as he sat pulled himself into a sitting position making a confused expression pointed at the clock. 

04:36 in the morning, of course.

Slowly he crawled over to Libertarian with this pouty expression on his face, but he remained silent, knowing how annoying having a business call cut off short was. They sat locked eyes as Libertarian droned down his microphone, not really registering his words. 

His brain turned to putty while his heart squeezed tight wrenched by how cute Ancap was, waiting for him with that vacant sleepy expression he loved so dearly, this was Ancap at his purest. The gremlin in him was primed for mischief but the lul of sleep made all his attempts cute and slowed so obvious he could sit and watch his brain having to work extra hard to get each word out.

After a few second of waiting Ancap realised he probably would still be a while, so in his infinite sleepy wisdom he shuffled closer, resting his head on Libertarians lap, lazily yawning while he stared up at the other man’s soft smile and sleepy hazel eyes flecked with gold and honed in the dim lights from the outside world, shining in through the windows around them.

Slowly and softly, as not to disturb Ancaps warmth resting in his lap, Libertarian put down his pen and notebook, already pushed aside by Ancap. He moved his hand as so to entwine his fingers in the soft messy curls stoking and fiddling out tiny knots, gentle as so not to pull. He continued the call but now he was so disconnected with his reality losing himself in the creeping need for sleep on his usually restless mind. He was Losing all sight of what he was talking about, he probably should end it, just so he could be safe and not make any deals while unable to think clearly.

He blinked slowly while looking at Ancaps perfect face, the sly yet sleepy smile, the sparkle in his purple rimmed eyes, the soft curve of his jaw. It was all so perfect. Soft and warming, 

“I’m sorry sir, I'll need to call you back. It’s getting late where I’m at and I have a... matter to attend to.”

And with that sudden ending to the call, Libertarian hung up, a sheepish grin cracking across his dazed expression, after hearing the small happy sound Ancap made. Like a tiny cheer the joy dazzling across his face as he lent up to kiss Libertarian, his soft lips were intoxicating as they both melted on contact, this pent up energy washed away with the contact. 

Drawing away Ancaps eys stayed close for a few moments, a blissful expression Libertarian was also lost in the soft scene of sleepy delight, running through his cold body, warming him to his core.

“You gonna pay attention to me now?”

Ancaps cheeky expression, a dazzling smile lit the dim room with his bright energy. Sitting up he shuffled over till he was sitting on Libertarians lap, nose to nose with the man, both still sleepy-eyed as they sated at each other lovingly, Ancap leant in to press his forehead against Libertarians a soft smile gracing his soft plush lips once more.

“I don’t know. Do ya want me to?”

Libertarian smiled back leaning into the kiss, so comfortable with Ancap nothing in the world would have stopped him, the warmth on his lap was soft and comforting as he closed his eyes savouring the kiss, hanging on to every second he could stay pressed against the light of his world. 

Both would say the other was the best part about them, the warmth and comfort within their souls could burn brighter than any LED display, warmer than the hanging sun on a summer day.

“I love you.”

Libertarian whispered, pressed beneath the covers on their shared bed, warm and safe,

“I love you more.”

Ancaps retort was soft and muffled, but the playful smile carried through. Libertarian snorted lightly and curled in closer to Ancap, his body warmth was all he ever wanted to fell any more, comfortable beneath the covers curled around Ancap. Ancap supposed sharing his heat with Libertarian was ok, he loved him more than words could say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...  
> ya,  
> umm that was a thing
> 
> the fandom is like going real hard on Libcap so like, I do what people want...
> 
> requests for ships I guess,  
> I'm just writing when I want to with this,  
> so like idk  
> aaaa
> 
> spelling and grammar if ya want,  
> but like I majority write these story with my tired brain  
> so like cut some slack...  
> or don't I don't really mind!
> 
> thx for reading ever way <3


	4. Minarchist/Hoppean that i don't remember writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minarchist/Hoppean
> 
> I have not proofread this, I wrote this over way to many days and have no clue what its about, i just hope its cohesive enough to make sense, I am so sorry.

The meeting had gone well, all things considered, Minarchist had gotten a decent pull over the sugar imports and a possible deal with Green-Liberalism to have a share in green energy for the city, although they still worked majority on fossil fuels Minarchist could see a place for renewable energy in the future.

Minarchist was walking the barely holding together streets of Ancapistan with a small smile on his face, he was pleased and was going to talk to Ancap, maybe grab a cup of tea with Libertarian for celebration’s sake. 

It was about 10:00, maybe later, the black clouds blocked out the milk stain moon, making it impossible to guess and the flickering street light barely illuminating the path ahead of him. He should have got a taxi or something, but he really wanted a moment on his own. So he carried along the deserted road, cautiously as he knew there could be anything around the corners, of chose he was right to be scared but not of what was in front of him. A dull thunk on the back of his head cracking down painfully.

He passed out, on the deserted street corner, the last thing he saw was some kids in black and grey looking elated at their latest attack. I should've got a taxi.  
____________________________________________________________________________

When Minarchist came to, he was in a small room, the light of some barely flickering bulb created shifting images on the wall. A tiny grated window in the cling signified he was under the ground. It was rather sobering. Where had his private police been? He should have been safe, and what did those kids want? This was frustrating, he was supposed to meet Ancap, he was supposed to hit deadlines. All he could do was contemplate and wait for someone to come and answer his questions.

If you attack an ideology they are way stronger than anyone can ever imagine and they can easily destroy you. But he also knew that he would have to bribe his way out. These kids wanted something, even just to beat someone up and Minarchist really wanted to just get out quick and easy. He was a softy as most of the Ancapistanian group had agreed, but he didn’t mind he just wanted to live his life. But the realisation that he was trapped in the basement of some building he didn’t recognise by the hands of insane citizens, he hadn’t really registered how bad this situation really could be.

His head hurt, aching, throbbing. His vision was still blurry. As he stared at the barely visible window, pressed into the ceiling barred and locked. He contemplated any form of escape, his head slowing his thoughts.

But before he could formulate any type of plan he began to hear someone descending behind him, coming closer with every echoing step bouncing around the space imposingly. It was making the ache in his head more painful, but he sat up straight and prepared for whatever these kids were going to ask for, ready to bargain and con, if he really had to, although he dislikes of that tactic immensely in of the business world, he still knew this game he was around when the rules were written and although he may be a softy he wasn’t bad at the art he called his job.

But the person who greeted him, with an insane smile, did not look like one of the scruffy teens that had cracked him over the head. He had slick-back black hair, a suit and one single ribbon made of silky blue material on his rightsholder. He had this unhinged glitter in his eyes as he stared down at Minarchist, the way a predator inspects its prey before pouncing.

“So… you woke up.”

His voice was dry, hollowly echoing around the empty space, like there was something missing within his words. Minarchists head still ached as he had to strain to look up at the man, who was pacing back and forth in front of him now. Mumbling too lowly to be heard, but loud enough to grate on his ears harshly.

“I can give you money, I can give you power, I can give you workers. Just name your price and we can discuss it, I’d really rather avoid a conflict.”

His voice was rather level for the frustration he was feeling alongside the screaming clash of pain ripping through his mind. Who was this weirdo and why did his little handlooms have to interrupt his chance for some nice tea? Honestly.

All the man replied with was an insane smile, one that seemed to fill every crevice of the already fuzzy room with this sinister intention. The type of smile you would only see on the internet or tv, a serial killers grin. Cruel. As he approached, without a word spoken moving forward sinisterly creeping with a slight slouch so as not to break eye contact, he got so close Minarchists could feel his hot breath on his own face. Intensifying the headache tenfold.

Once he was almost pressed into minarchist he spoke once more, his voice still dry but now almost exited in this insane whisper breathing hot air onto Minarchist’s face

“Ow but dear, you see my price will be more than you’ll be willing to pay…”

He was still smiling, the insane glitter in his eyes, his hands were hidden behind his back. Minarchist wasn’t an idiot. He knew a threat when he saw one and this man was a threat to.

“You’re probably right, whatever your price will be I won’t be able to pay, that may be an issue with my getting out so I would, although my better judgement, like to ask what your theoretical price would consist of?”

He knew it was probably going to be some large section of land or the city gate key or something just as priceless that he flat out didn’t have the authority over. He knew he’d have to get him down, bargain so that he could get out of this smiling creeps dingy basement. what he wasn’t expecting was his response

“I want your head. on a silver plate. And I want this city. In ruins.”

The glitter in his eyes, the insane smile grew taught, as he drew his hand out from behind his back, to reveal a large knife. He lent in with the knife tip pressed into the paralysed man’s jugular. 

“I learned a long time ago if you want to destroy anything, break the heart before you break the body, they crumble from the inside out.”

His breath was still hot against Minarchist’s face, gently turning his head to inspect from a different angle with this sinister glee. The soft regular exhales, onto his cheek, becoming more frequent as he continued to smile and stare at his trapped prey. Minarchist supposed this was his end, it wasn’t how he had expected his life to end out. 

He had expected it a long time ago, on the bathroom floor of that one bedroom. Or when he was flying the helicopter over that burning forest as he watched the gas run out. Or the hundreds of times his bodyguards had shoved him aside. they were so good hard-working people, he hoped Ancap wouldn’t hold his mistake to them, blame them for an idiotic move on his half.

He stared into the eyes of the man that would be his death and prepared his terrified mind with a relaxed outlook. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was-

The ringing of footsteps descending behind Minarchist rang around the room, shocking both of us slightly, the echoing sound reverberating against the walls. The man pulled the knife back partially while looking up the sociopathic smile washed from his face. Minarchist breathed out slowly, under his breath so as not to show how scared he actually was, or to tell his captor he was still before him, easy to kill, at the knifepoint. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him. He was supposed to be safe in the city.

“Good evening, Gulivard.”

A deadly calm voice spoke from behind him, as the insane smiling man narrowed his eyes staring down the person with this rage-filled glare.

“Evening Mr Hoppean.”

His voice held the sudden drawl of an upper-class citizen, replacing the hollow hiss of a mad man with one I would expect to hear at one of Ancaps and Libertarians many dinner formals. But his eyes were still the same glitter like ice frozen over an animal carcass in the middle of a winter storm.

“Why, may I enquire, do you have one of my colleges tied to a chair?”

Relaxed, poised, somehow exhibiting all the most terrifying parts of Ancap and the Nazis, Minarchist knew this man for longer than anyone could be bothered to remember. Hoppean.

“Is it any of your business? I pay my rent, I have fulfilled all requirements to be allowed to live in this building. Why are you performing a surprise inspection? I have no calculable reason not to avoid associating the private police, to take you out of MY home”

The relaxed way he just brushed off Minarchist’s existence, was strangely disheartening. As though he believed Hoppean would brush off his presence as part of the scenery, being scared off by hollow threats and high self-value. 

As he sat, back to Hoppean, the glint of the sharp threatening knife became visible once more. The shaft of harsh light reflecting off its smooth surface with a frightening icy glitter. Minarchist yelped slightly, as he noticed the object pointed towards him, trying in vain to shuffle back as his heterochromatic eyes fixed on the point with unadulterated fear.

“I am trying my best to be polite,”

Hoppean began, jaws clenched tightly muscling his words, the way he did when he had to talk in any meeting, 

“But if you move that knife a centimetre closer to him, I will tear you apart.”

The way the words fell in place, cold and confident in his abilities, Hoppean was ready to take the world on in that moment, as the knifepoint drifted closer and closer to Minarchist,

“Ha. and how would you do that, wouldn’t that violate your precious little NAP?”

He was mocking him now, Minarchist was scared for his life now. The rage he felt across the room radiating from Hoppean like storming oceans.

“My FRIEND.”

Hoppean was angry, it even carried through to his voice, instead of the usual frustrated tone it was now a low hiss.

“You seem to have me fixed with the other libertarians.”

His voice was getting closer to them, the soft clacking of choose on concrete confirmed this 

“We differ in a few ways.”

Now he stood just beyond Minarchist’s field of vision, standing over him, like a spectre of darkness, creeping through the shadows with this evil intention. But now it was comforting standing over him, a shadow protecting its owner, a dog protecting a bone.

“For one, I don’t believe minorities are people.”

He reached out a hand and placed it on the man’s shoulder leaning in, with this knowing smile, the disturbingly cute one, filled with blood-lust and quiet nights in

“And for another, I don’t need to abide by the NAP, to get shit done.”

It went faster than Minarchist could keep up with, a quick flash of motion a clean loop a fast pull, a light tap and the man that held the knife to his throat so threateningly, now lay on the ground, head seeping blood onto the concrete, knife impaled into his stomach and arms pulled at frightful angles. 

It was a sickening sight to behold, and Minarchist immediately shut his eyes in a desperate attempt to escape the grizzly sight. 

“No, thank you? No ow, thank-god you’re here Hoppean? Honestly, Min, you're rather useless when you literally meet your savior..”

The jovial way he spoke was in opposition with the pure rage that had been pooling within his words just seconds ago.

“Maybe if you untie me and get me out of hell I’ll say something of gratification.”

Min mumbled lightly under his breath as he continued to stare at the backs of his eyelids trying not to see the image of a body burned into his mind like a red hot iron.

“Ok princess.”

Hoppean answered with that stupid tiny smile, slipping its way into his words, Minarchist knew this was the playful Hoppean, the one that surfaced whenever something traumatic happened to them, saving him from a downward spiral with the ease of a practised man. 

This wasn’t the murderous Hoppean that ran back door ‘business’ for Ancap, where he would knock on Minarchist’s door at 4:00 in the morning reeking of blood and ask if he could bunk up for a few days while refusing to give any explanation why. Or the Hoppean that disposed of those he thought less than him through progressively more creative manner, often not even registering they were also human as him, treating them more like disposable items than living creatures.

This was the sweet man that had once spent three nights straight at Minarchist’s bedside with reheated chicken soup and a cool towel, whispering soothing words as he watched on concerned but powerless as fever ravaged the other’s body whispering sweet nothings through the night. This was the man that had let him pick his last 3 hair cuts because he could never decide what he wanted. This was the man who had protected Minarchist in his darkest hour with fierce bravery and a wicked glint, but he would never treat Minarchist with anything less than compassion.

The ropes tying his wrists to the chair and the bonds around his ankles loosen Minarchist struggled to stand, before immediately toppling, only being caught by the surprisingly steady hands of Hoppean, a soft smile on his usually scowling face, as he slowly pulled the other into his chest. 

“What happened princess?”

The question was delivered so lightly, but the low growl was apparent once more, protective and sweet. Minarchist was so familiar with the almost possessive tone.

“First off stop calling me that.”

Minarchist’s voice was muffled as he pressed his face into the other’s chest, seeking comfort, it took a few moments for the other to register what he said, but when he did a sharp bark-like laugh was drawn out of him, making his chest vibrate and Minarchist shake slightly.

“Ok, Min...”

The barely disguised glee, as he held the other for a few moments longer

“This is pretty degenerate.”

The way he said it, as though trying to say it flatly but failing to do so, leading to this slight uncomfortable laugh-it-off air to intertwined with his words. Minarchist clutched to his shirt tighter, still struggling to stand on his own two feet, but now he could feel the tension between the pair

“Is that a bad thing?”

He could play it off, if it was, he could just say it was cuz of the shock, he wasn’t in the right mind, a dead man was laying just a few feet away from them both. But he wanted to know what they were anymore, what he was to the man he now clutched to remain standing.

“I…”

The pause lasted for a century, creating a tense atmosphere between the pair as Minarchist looked up for the first time, curiosity dancing in his blue and yellow eyes. 

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

He looked at the shorter man’s eyes, no matter how often he stared at the dazzling patterns, they always caught him the soft sparkle. It made his heart skip a beat. As they both realised what was going on at that moment.

“I am not kissing you next to a dead body, just so you know, I’ll kiss you once we’re back at the apartment.” 

The matter of facet way Minarchist just took control was so adorable, Hoppean supposed it had always been there, the way he always got caught by his sparkling eyes, like a spell. And he knew it would never be easy, they had to keep it under wraps for the time being, but he knew they had something, it may not be love, but maybe one day, he could look back at this moment and smile.

“Alright, Mino. My building is closed.”

“Yea but mine has popcorn, and no Nazi memorabilia,”

“Ow common…”

They began to go u the stares, Minarchist still leaning heavily on Hoppean bickering easily as they made there way out of the concrete building  
____________________________________________________________________________

“How did you know I was in that building Hop?”

Minarchist lay on the other’s chest, playing with his long hair as they listened to the acidic rainfall upon the window with loud thuds.

“Cuz one of my men saw you get taken…”

Hoppean replied, eyes shut as he answered the question sleepily. Minarchist frowned, creasing his smooth brow with confusion the answer obviously unsatisfactory

“One of your men?”

The question sounded more confused than accusatory, but Hoppean knew to play it cool, Minarchist was a mild-mannered ray of sunshine, but he was also a very fiery soul. 

“Ya know, the kid’s that beat ya up… one of them is a sideliner for me sometimes, gave me the tip that the cute one I wouldn’t shut up about had just been knocked over the head…”

Minarchist raised an eyebrow but remained silent for a few moments before huffing and laying back down on Hoppean’s chest, resting his head so that the sound of raindrops and the steady beating of heart mingled easily.

“But how did you find me?”

A light smile crossed his face as he kept his eyes glued shut. Moving his hand to stroke his hair with long fingers

“I did what I do best, you were gone for 17 and a half hours, you're lucky I managed to get to you before the monster did, he only really had you for half an hour, I pulled some teeth, I slit a wrist and I ended out to have owned the building.”

“You're creepy…”

Minarchist’s voice was both anxious and endearing as he pressed closer to the other's chest.

“And you're adorable.”

The night was warm and they were at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this doesn't feel like my best, but I haven't posted in ages,  
> as I can't figure out where I want to go with my other story,  
> so I'm stuck writing and scrapping everything I write,  
> this whole piece feels like a bit of a toss-up.  
> I apologize for whatever I wrote.
> 
> I think this pair is based on u/clowntoddhoward version (on Reddit)  
> but I'm not entirely sure.
> 
> ok one day on, still don't remember writing this, or really posting it but that's neither here nor there.
> 
> Thanks a fuck-tun to UndervaluedAgent you're a lifesaver  
> and I now need to work on the difference between you're and your


	5. It's raining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain is the best kind of weather, only topped by storms. (don't @ me)  
> so, it was raining and I was like yeah this is cute so now I have this.
> 
> no real relationships, just our favourite Extremists being cosy.   
> UwU

Heavy rain thundered outside the window as Ancom sat on the sill, curled in a ragged blanket, a book laying forgotten in qis lap as qi just stared out. Qi watched the torrents of rain hammered down angrily as the rest of the world went still, in awe of the beautiful chaos heald in the stormes eye. 

Qi had sat in that cubby for hours, the cup of tea qi had brewed lay forgotten on the floor. Qi would probably drink it when qi woke up, dam with the chill of the drink or how disgusted the other extremes would look, in fact, that was a plus, no one fucked with qim when they thought that qi was insane. It was just warmer ice tea, nothing to scoff at.

But qis thoughts drifted once more, away from the cold tea, back to the storm. The pale lights of the city, twinkling off in the distance as qi snuggled further down into the blanket. Revelling in the warmth, the night so perfect and still, the rain so heavy and thick it drowned out even the Nazis incessant screaming.

Qi felt safe, in that small cubby, hidden from the cruelty of the world.

The sounds of a door being opened drew qim from the light sleep, as someone entered the small study Ancap kept as a back up to his main larger one. The person clearly was unaware of qis presence, as whoever it was beginning to rummage through the contents of one of the shelves, singing softly under their breath. 

When you sang in the household you got ripped a new one by the rest of the group, it was just so easy t make fun of, but Ancom didn’t feel like bullying one of qis fellow extremes in that second.

“Hey.”

Qi called out softly, almost not wanting to be heard, but qi was pleased qi had. As the hulking figure of Takie lept up turning to qim with a shocked expression eyes blown wide as his hulking figure dropped into a defensive stance instinctively.

“хрен был?”

“Just me big guy! Wanna watch the thunder?”

Tanki straightened immediately, trying to hide the fact Ancom had almost had him over, he stared at qim with a sceptical eye.

“Are you high Anarkiddie?”

His voice sounded heavy and uncertain as he stared across the dimly lit room, his face bathed in shadows,

“Na, just enjoying the thunder. Reminds me of better nights.” 

Ancom stared back off into the thundering storm, eyes glazed with this contemplative look, as qi lifted the blanket back up to qis nose, seeking comfort in its soft texture.

“Ow… sorry. Do you… do you wanna talk about it?”

He sounds awkward as though he had no clue what he was supposed to answer with, Ancom smiled kindly at him, qi understood the Communist, he was a fish out of water when dealing with the chaos loving libs, often forced to work outside his comfort zone, just to talk to them.

“Na… but if you want to watch the storm with me that’d be cool.”

Ancom smiled loosely at him, eyes sparkling as another shock of lightning crashed down somewhere far off in the distance, lighting up qis face with a stanch contrasting frame.

“Yea… I’d like that.”

Commie smiled at qim before turning and grabbing the armchair, tucked away in a corner, the worn leather and soft warm brow a striking contrast to the battle-hardened man. 

“I’d grab a blanket if I were you, and maybe change into your pyjamas…”

Ancom commented absently as qi turned back to the thundering storm. The world around qim almost dulled by the vibrant clash of natures wrath. 

“ok. I’ll return in a few minutes.”

Commie answered, his voice light as he stood and left the other leftest, Ancom wasn’t bothered, all qi could do was sit and stare wondrously. Eyes wide as the droplets of rain clashed together in a frenzied battle of wills.

Leaning qis head against the cool glass qi once more drifted in and out of conciseness, the thrumming of the rain soothing qis usually busy mind. How long had it been since qi had gotten high? It felt like forever, but qi was so warm, and Commie would be coming back in a moment, qi could wait a little longer. It was almost soothing, the mesmerising colours gone replaced by the insane ever-present thrumming of a storm.

An unsteady stepping into the room notified qim of his return, rasing qis head from the window Ancom glanced across the dimly lit room. Commie was in an old pale grey vest and baggy sweat-pants. Stumbling slightly over his own feet as he shuffled through the door frame side-on He smiled sheepishly at qim, a trey with a few mugs balanced precariously on it, along with a steaming pot of something.

“I made Горячий шоколад! Or as you westerners call it Hot chocolate.”

His eyes twinkled as he lay the trey on the table, pulling a ladle out and filling a mug,

“You want?” He glances over at qim quickly a sudden expression of uncertainty playing on his face “I know you didn’t ask for- but I made vegan, it tastes good still…”

He shuffled his feet awkwardly hand still on the ladle as he watched Ancom, shuffle around so qi was facing him,

“Yeah, sure! Its no worry, Hot chocolate’s amazing!”

Ancom smiled, bright and blissfully relaxed, the awkward vibe Commie was giving off soothed as he smiled softly ladling some liquid into a mug. Passing it over to Ancom and grabbing his own. 

Settling into the chair he pulled a book out of his pocket, one-hand still clamped vice-like around his mug, he opened the little book and began to thumb through the pages to where his bookmark was barely visible. Ancom turned back to the storm, the room relaxed and quiet. The warmth of the hot chocolate pressed into qis chest, the storm soothingly chaotic outside. 

Everything was good and peaceful in the world.

Sometime later, when Ancom was about halfway through qis drink, someone else wandered into the room, hand on his phone and glasses obscuring his face. He strutted with the same confidence he always carried around him.

“Hey, Ancap!”

Ancom’s voice was gentle, almost drowned out by the storm, but qi caught the mans attention away from his phone, drawn to the bundle of blankets and the chair next to qim where Commie still posed over his book, legs drawn up to his chest mug left forgotten on the floor.

“Um… what are you to doing?”

His voice was the same haughty tone the rich pig always held, but the night had obviously layn heavy on him, as he didn’t immediately catch up, slowed by his obvious fatigue.

“Listening to the storm, Tankie reading… Wanna join? I reckon Tankie wouldn’t mind you having some of his Hot chocolate”

Ancom smiled before glancing at Tankie who only shrugged noncommittally, eyes still fixed on the book pressed closely against his knees. Ancap looked at the pair perplexedly, lifting his sunglasses to rub his eyes before taking them off entirely and laying them on the desk lightly.

“You both know the time? It’s almost half twelve.”

He sounded worn out, the way his words dragged similar to the way Ancom spoke when qi was tripping on something heavy. 

“So what? Hot drinks are good for the heart, and none of us goes to bed before like one.”

Ancom dismissed with a soft smile

“Get into ya PJs and watch the rain… common…”

Qi was leaning forward, moving from the warm cocoon of blankets qi had made for qimself, Ancap bit his lip uncomfortable, yellow eyes glowing in the dim light of the desk lamp

After a few moments of silent deliberation, where he stood staring at his glass sat on the desk reflecting the light, he drew in a deep sigh.

“Yea, fine… I suppose it’ll be nice to watch the market with people around.”

He sounded almost relieved as he turned to leave, his glasses still sat on the desk. Ancom smiled brightly at the curled up Commie, he glanced up slightly to return the smile with a small one of his own before returning to the book. Deeply invested in the words on the page.

Ancom took another sip of qis drink, the warm comforting taste reminded qim of countless nights, off in the desert, camping with qis friends, the way they had sung around the crackling fire or played games in the darkness. The warm drinks and kind words almost in reach but somehow always evading Ancoms reach, qi couldn’t remember their names.

The rain reminding qim of those nights qis dad would build pillow forts in the living room, for qim and qis siblings to hid in, the excited squeals of tag in the tunnels and the way qis mom would come in and laugh at the bundled pile of sleeping kids after they all tired themselves out. A small smile played on qis lips, better times easier times. When qi understood there was good in the evil and qi could always work with the short time qi was allowed in qis life. 

But now qi had a new life. One that qi could never see the end of being peaceful.

Ancap came back in, dressed in blue trousers and shirt, speckled with white dots, a single pocket over his heart. Ancom couldn’t remember the last time qi had actually seen the man in anything other than a suit, he looked just as rich and just as much of an ass-hole but now he seemed less intimidating, the bags under his eyes more noticeable and he looked less confident.

“Grab some drink, theirs space on the cill, and I think there may be another blanket in the corner.”

For once, Ancap didn’t fight qim, which made it clear he was well and truly out of it, he just went and grabbed the ladle, lifting the lid of the pot, and grabbing some of the drink. Before turning and putting the cup down on the other side of the long cill. He then went and grabbed an old brown blanket, frayed at the edges with years of use and settled down on the cill, pulling his phone out and immediately illuminating his face with its pale glow.

“That’s not good for your eyes, put it in the night-light setting.”

Commie commented absently over his book.

“Fuck off states.”

Ancap mumbled with no real animosity behind his words, as after a few seconds the lights did dim to a warmer yellow. The room settled once more. The comforting presence of the other two extremes soothing to Anarchists overactive mind, the rain still clashing down and the lightning still occasionally striking far off in the distance.

How had they got to this point? Where the three could sit in the room without arguing? In fact, feeling safe while being in the company of what the should call their enemies. Ancom never others trying to understand the world around qim, qi liked to live in the moment, dust in the wind. Although qi supposed they were not as human, and so were more akin to something like ashes, so easily destroyed yet they were more substantial than dust.

The raindrops were still hammering down thick and heavy, the sound seeping into qis soul. The book qi had been trying to read, before being washed away in the beauty of the storm, sat on the floor discarded easily. it wasn’t one of Commies dumb theory books or one of Ancaps maths and economics books, not even one from Nazi, who kept a disturbing amount of history books. 

It was the first book of the harry potter sires, Ancom had never read it before, qis parents forbid it out-right, and from what qi could remember, they had always fascinated qim. So qi had picked it up to have a go. Once more qi lent down to grab the book, neither of the other to pay any attention as qi almost toppled over, although qi noted Tankie tensed up as though instinctively. 

Once qi had retrieved the discarded book qi looked once more at the front cover. Although J.K-Rowling was a bit of a problematic bitch Ancom could sense the almost childlike excitement fizzing in qis gut, warm and comforting qi knew this was going to be good. As the book fell open over qis blanketed lap, the pages soft to the touch, worn with age and love, similar to Tankies many neatly organised books. Qi had borrowed the book a while back honestly, the owner had promised qim that they had a few books so qi could take qis time and qi had only just felt the urge to read, sit down and read.

Qi could admit qi was a shitty reader, but as Ancom struggled to read in qis head it was almost comical, the constant thundering of rain wasn’t helping although its soothing partnering was the only reason qi hadn’t immediately given up. but it was as though the words were barely making an impression, instead just falling away. One after another. 

So qi began to whisper the words, one after the other under qis breath, struggling with every sentence, but it was at least going in. 

It had been an hour, Ancom getting progressively louder, struggling over each sentence. So that by the end of chapter three qi was talking at an ordinary volume. The other two didn’t seem to mind though. Both getting u at times to grab more to drink, or in Tankie’s case grab a second book this one jut as wordy as the last. But it was clear Ancom was struggling.

“I’ll read it to you. Just- please stop struggling so loud.”

Ok, he had been bord, even COD gets lonely after a while. so he had gone to find one of his fellow extremes to ever bully or debate, it was up to who he came across first. It hadn’t been hard, the constant stuttering of Ancom was easy to follow. Although the rain almost drowned qim out and when he approached the office it was clear from the doorway all three where there, it had been a peaceful scene, minus Ancoms stuttering, the anarchists wrapped in blankets the Authoratarean curled in the ancient armchair.

There were a trey and mugs along with a big pot of something on the table and he supposed as he watched the three doing their own thing, it was all just a relaxed encounter. But the study was a strange place to hang around, the living room was preferable. But he was still lonely and he would have never admitted it but he still felt almost crushingly lonely. Slowly he had slunk into the room.

“No! I’m doing just fine.”

Ancom responded out of pride, head held high as qi rebuked the Nazi. but qi was lying, all qi wanted to do was give up, the book was too difficult, all qi could actually do was struggle with each word each sentence dragging out for an eternity. Nazi frowned at qim,

“Please?”

He was almost soft, his voice losing that haughty inflexion it usually held, he looked almost small, human. His curled hands unfurling in this defeated gesture, he had no fight, qi supposed he wanted to help.

The thundering rain filled the silence, as qi deliberated in the dragged out space between. Lighting crashing off in the distance, closer this time, eliminating qis face and the thunder rolled around. It would’ve been terrifying, if not for the comforting presence of the other Extremists.

“Change into your pyjamas and grab a blanket… Commie made vegan hot chocolate… if you want some.”

Ancom looked at him with tired eyes, defeated by qis own inability resigned to the verbal lashing of the other. But this was what Nazi had wanted, an excuse to be with the others without having to flat out ask them or feel like an intrusion, so instead of his usual gloating he just turned briskly and left. 

Returning in only a few minutes wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of baggy trousers. Over his shoulder was an old throw blanket he had been given years ago black and white stripes it was indistinguishable from any other blanket, but this one had the single mark sown into the edge, the names of all the people he had lost in the transition to being an extreme.

He grabbed a mug of the drink in the pot and took the book from Ancom. Looking down at the cover he carefully examined the book. It was that wizard book written by the crazy feminist. He supposed it was going to be just as shit as everything else Ancom spouted. But, he supposed, at least it wasn’t blog posts or any of that crap qi seemed to get all qis information from at least qi was reading something that had the potential to be interesting.

“I’m starting from the beginning. I want to be able to keep up with the story as well, and you didn’t get very far, letting me catch up won’t kill you.”

No real snide remarks, no animosity, just commenting before begging. Ancom didn’t really understand what qi had read so it was alright by qim and so they both settled in once more. 

Nazi was a really good reader like honestly, he seemed to captivate Ancom within seconds, the way he gave each character a voice of their own, the way he flew through the words seamlessly. He stopped for dramatic effect and almost instinctively knew when to slow down so Ancom could keep up.

None of them really noticed but slowly Commie and Ancap both also stopped what they were doing, unwrapping from their little worlds, to listen to Nazi and the fantastical story. It was a spell of its own, the relaxed room the hot chocolate the pyjamas and blankets the captivated extremes listening to a story none had ever heard and the raging storm just ou their window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea so...  
> not proofread. and like I didn't even look over this, hope its all ok, I won't know.
> 
> also, like the Extremists in PJs? like what do you reckon they wear? I just made it up as I went
> 
> I hope y'all are having a decent day,   
> and if not I hope it'll get better, <3


	6. Touch-starved bastards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ancom x Authright  
> maybe platonically, sorta, idk
> 
> both of them are touchy bitches.  
> Authright is in denial tho
> 
> just an attempt at angsty fluff. but also maybe projection. So, nya!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to put warnings on this.  
> I think?  
> Like Nazi is a self-loathing anxious ball of negativity,  
> Also, like the use of the F-slur. A bit?  
> Honestly, this is a mix of wish fulfilment projection and a strange want for more opposite unity of these two. But like soft, cuz I’m bad at writing the absolute ass-hat that is Nazi really.

The nights were always the worst for Nazi.

Ancom was a touchy bitch, qi would literally admit it, no shame to be seen. When qi wanted to snuggle, it didn’t matter who was around, the first person sat down and able to be trapped by qim would get enveloped by the small anarchist. No one could escape the bitch when qi was cold or anxious or even wanted to be held qi would not even give a shit if the two were literally screaming at each other five minutes ago, qi would snuggle if qi wanted to snuggle.

Ancap claimed it was a nuisance as he had to do business with the small bundle clinging to him, leeching his heat like the government leeching his questionably earned revenue. He often claimed Ancom should be paying him for his time; but really he found it quite comforting, even putting off some work productivity to run his fingers through his fellow anarchist hair, soothed by the small bundle’s presence. 

And Tankie, he would say qi was being a clingy one minded idiot, who needed to leech off the strong when they should be able to stand on their own? but when they were curled together on the couch, and he thought qi was sleeping, and no one was around he would run his fingers through qis hair and sing Russian lullabies for hours at a time. The warmth of the other reminding him of the fires on harsh winter nights, the slowed breathing like the winds of far off hilltops.

Really the only person living in the house that had never dealt with the clingy anarchist’s antics was Nazi, not for lack of trying. Nazi was a proud lofty ass, he would shove qim off if qi even got the chance to touch him, but the man had a sort of sixth sense for that sort of thing. He could tell when Ancom was getting ready for an attack and would scurry off to his room, retreating like the coward he was.

But one night that change. 

Because for all his shoving and shunning, words of contempt and general display of disinterest in any of the other extremes, (apart from when it came to how they could benefit him) Nazi was touch starved as all living hell. He would shy away from any contact remove himself from every situation where he might receive even a breath brush of shoulders. But really, he had to fight every part of himself so not to literally melt into the touch. He knew it was unhealthy, but he also knew he had a reputation. He hated everyone in the household, on principle. The degenerates would rot in hell (if that really existed). So he went on starved for attention. He wasn’t a fucking fag.

The house was strangely silent for this time of night, no incessant babble of Ancap, talking honeyed words down his receiver as he grimaced and cringed at whatever the other person said. He was at a large business convention, was to be gone for the next 2 days or so. 

Commie was harder to place, although he didn’t make nearly as much noise as Ancap, his usual gruff chuckle or the gentle clatter of him working in the kitchen was a presence Ancom missed, he had been gone for about 3 days and would hopefully return tomorrow or the next day. Ancom was missing him, but he had to attend a rather large memorial, and would probably be getting drunk each night in celebration of all the lost comrades. Ancom respected his want to respect those he stood with.

Nazi had also been missing the others two’s presence, but for different reasons, he just missed the bare contact he received from Ancap, when he would make him sit and listen to his new ideas, being bored out of his mind but also kept company for a few hours at least. He missed Commie’s occasional chats and bare brushing of shoulders as they played call of duty. But most of all he missed having a buffer, between him and the overly emotional Ancom no one was there to save him from the clingy bum boy, of his desperate, vying for attention.

He hadn’t really left his room in two days, not since the first day of Commie's departure. This was due to the dangerously close brush, where the opposing sides had been loitering in the kitchen. The faint misty glittering eyes beginning to spill over, while qis posture tensed slightly, all the subtle signs qi was going to attack the first person qi saw, and Nazi refused to partake in such degeneracy with that… degenerate.

He didn’t regret it, he couldn’t regret it. He was strong and pure and all that was good left in this wretched household. So what if he had curled in on himself? So what if he had cried in the shower? So what? No one was there to watch him, so he was a degenerate when the eyes of the world weren’t on him, when he piled blankets as high as possible, curling in, trying to remember what a real hug felt like.

He was an idiot.

Ancom was aching, the desperate hunger in qis core, gnawing away at qim, ripping its way into qis very soul. The darkness outside Ancaps house was almost complete, the stars mostly covered by clouds, the only light was the occasional reflection of the moon’s beams on the misty arrey.

Ancom wandered through the house, seeking out the only other extreme to be around at the moment. He was not qis first choice, but the desperate need to be held to be warm to be curled in another’s embrace was slowly taking over qim swallowing all normal thought and any scene Ancom could possibly be left with.

The night had been long, the day had dragged on and all Nazi was able to do was stare blankly at the ceiling and cry silent tears. He knew he looked like a wreak, no one was supposed to see him. He knew this was weak, the wallowing in self-pity the never-ending staring, all of it was idiotic and pathetic, but all he could do was just yearn for any type of contact. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he was actually held. The last time anyone had sat with him or talked with him about nothing important, not seeking out an argument, just existing with him. It was all deep philosophy or screaming, a never-ending barrage of anger, all he wanted was to sleep, all he wanted was to be held.

He didn’t remember when the next wave of tears had come, maybe the last one had never really ended, but he noted absently as his vision became blurred and his soul shrank just that tiny pice more.

“You’re pathetic.”

He mumbled into the empty room, breaking the silence for the first time in what must’ve been hours, why was he doing this? Why would he do anything else? His voice was hoarse and croaky, not having been used properly in what felt like days. How long had he been in his room? When had he last eaten? What time was it?

Did it really matter?

The sudden opening of his door jarred him upright, from where he had been curled trying to stave off the seeping cold yet too empty to cover himself in blankets. It never filled the hollow void, there was no point in trying anymore.

The shot of adrenaline was sharp, pulling him up as fast as a bullet whistling through the air from a sharpshooter. It was the degenerate. Who else could’ve it been? But the plummeting feeling of seeing the person he was trying so desperately to avoid was hard to mask.

Ancom looked shocked, brows furrowed and head tilted to the side. He looked hideous, a wreak, every piece of an idiotic and weak man. Even this degenerate would be able to see that. He wouldn’t have even blamed qim for putting a few bullets through his head, he might’ve even welcomed the shots. It would be easier than dealing with this shit.

The silence hung for a few long seconds, Ancom staring at the destroyed looking man, his hair was plastered to his face in places and sticking up wildly in others, his eyes were weighed with dark bags and his lips were cracked and torn.

Ancom knew qi should turn around and leave, let the Nazi fester in whatever weird shit he had dug himself into. But qi was tired, desperate and really wanted to snuggle. So against qis better judgment, qi slowly walked into the darkroom. 

Nazi had turned off all his lights, bar the single shitty reading light Commie had thrown at his head after a particularly heated ‘debate’, which he had claimed to keep out of spite. He remained as still as a statue, muscles stiff and eyes fixed on the cautiously approaching anarchist. Whatever qi was planning he was not willing to partake, sadly his worn-out body just didn’t have the energy to move. He was trapped, propped up on his arms, focused on what he assumed would be his demise bringer.

Useless. Worthless. He couldn’t even fight back.

Slowly, Ancom settled on the edge of his bed. Qis eyes fixed on the dishevelled man curiously. 

“Not feeling alive are we?”

Qis voice was soft, poking fun? Nazi was unsure if qi was just gloating. The man knew he would. 

He would’ve preferred to remain hidden behind his mask of disinterest for the rest of time. But he knew that never worked. He was here because he was weak, he couldn’t deal with his own needs. All he could do was watch as he ate himself alive. Faggot. The thought hung in the back of his mind, an insult he was so desperately familiar with.

Ancom shuffled closer, Nazi tensed,

“Yeah, I suppose it’s sorta odd… I never really imagined you had feelings, always assumed you were more of a… ya know…”

Ancom continued to look at him as qi searched for the right words, the tension in the other’s shoulders showing qim how wound up ready for a fight, the man was terrified,

“Scary.”

Qi sighed out, biting the inside of qis cheek. It wasn’t like Nazi had been anything but a nuisance, making qis life hell for his own enjoyment, or that’s how qi would like to think of it. He was the bad guy, he was the villain, he was to be gleaned the second the Centricide ended. But something about the anxious shuffling or ducking away, or avoiding any and all contact. The little details. All the signals invaded qis mind, dominating any other thoughts.

“I’m lonely, the others are out. And I want to snuggle, you get no choice in this.”

Qi looked at Nazi with a hard gaze, still perched at the edge of the bed. If the other flinched or tried to get out, qi would leave no matter the amount of bravado, it wasn’t fun snuggling with someone who didn’t want it, that’s why qi usually only ever snuggled with Takie, sometimes with Ancap when he was tense, they all thought qi never discriminate, qi just did whatever qi pleased, no matter what the others were feeling. But qi was smarter than any of them really gave credit. 

Qi knew to never approach Nazi, because of the degenerate shit he chose to spew, but more importantly because he scuttled off when even the chase of physical contact was even thought of. Qi just always assumed the man hated all of them, that he was cold and angry and heartless, that he never needed to be held, never needed to be touched. He didn’t want to be any closer to them then he had to be.

But now Ancom knows he is touch starved, the idiot had been avoiding everyone like they carried a plague, probably because of some deep routed and unknowable trauma. And if qi had known? Qi probably would’ve actually made him snuggle sooner, if he weren’t a fucking Nazi, and ran away from every chance qi got to see his real self.

The Nazi didn’t really react to the words, his heavy eyes and battered face reflective of a soul so sour with yearning.

Slowly Ancom shuffled into the bed, reaching out almost tentatively to the man, Nazi knew he should stop this, knew he should say something, anything, to get the degenerate to back off. But all he could do was stare, something deep inside of him had finally shattered

Nazi was freezing to the touch.  
Skin burning at the new foreign contact.  
He was rigid muscles tensed, like an animal preparing to bolt, but no indication he could even move.  
The explosion of heat and the electrical shock, tingling across his skin, dizzying and indulging.  
But he was comfortable to curl up on, as he sank down to the mattress, the gentle leading hand from Ancom guiding him to the mattress once more.  
Hazy vision the lump of something bubbling up in his throat, stopping him from breathing.

Nazi was the little spoon, and for once Ancom was ok with it. Qi had missed the feeling of another human being, pressed to qis skin like a portable radiator. Nazi warmed up at every patch qi touched. It was almost magical, the soft hiss of surprise chocked out a few seconds after they both lay down. She few shuddering breaths, and qi knew instinctively he was crying.

Slowly qi lifted qis hand to his face,

“It’s ok.”

And maybe for once, it was, the darkness of the night hung on, the warmth of another humans breath on the back of his neck. Nazi almost felt whole again, for what could’ve been hours or moments, time was meaningless, he was in someone’s embrace and he felt wholly himself.

Slowly Ancom pulled away, drawing a low whine from Nazi’s throat that he would vehemently deny ever happened.

“We gonna talk about why you look like you’ve not seen a meal in your life or the fact you’ve been in this room for about two days and still look like you haven’t slept in years?”

Ancom’s voice was soft, drawing Nazi in like a moth to a flame or flies to honey. Slowly he turned over, dishevelled and broken, eyes locking with the tired ones of the person he so desperately wanted to despise.

“No?”

He answered whispering so softly, the sound of qis breathing would’ve drowned him out, his eyes were desperate, and Ancom knew what was up, slowly closing back in, pressing qis forehead against the others.

“But this is more unhealthy than even me Nazi.”

Ancom replied, watching the way Nazi closed his eyes as they pressed together. His hollow cheeks hauntingly illuminated by the small reading light. The heavily bagged eyes pressed into his head, sunken. If he hadn’t been breathing shallowly against qis chest, qi wouldb=ve assumed he was dead.

The silence hung on. Thick in the rooms stagnant air. They were not covered by any blankest, both feeling the spite of the natural air, seeping into their skin, drowning their scenes.

“Make 3 am microwave macaroni, and snuggle on the couch.”

Ancom drew all contact away at these words, watching as he subconsciously tried to follow the contact before opening his eyes and looking up with this almost betrayed expression. 

Sitting up to stare down at the rundown man, Ancom almost felt bad, but qi was literally offering food and cuddles, so qi didn’t feel that bad. 

Slowly Nazi caught up, the battered cogs behind his eyes turning. Before he slowly nodded. Ancom smiled softly. Grabbing a blanket off his bed and slowly getting to qis feet. It only took a few seconds before Nazi was following, the issue was, when you’ve been still for as long as Nazi had been, you kinda louse the ability to walk. And he stumbled before falling back onto the bed, with a horse oof.

Ancom would’ve usually laughed, or made some snarky comment. But instead, qi just turned and laid a gentle hand on the others shoulder. Helping him to his feet, and leading him out the room, one hand still holding the blanket over qis shoulder.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Once they made t through to the kitchen, qi guided Nazi to the countertop, which he hoisted himself onto with some struggle, qi put the blanket, a large grey fluffy one with a slightly paler trim, into his lap and turned to the cupboards, specifically the small undercover high cupboard Ancap and qim shared.

They had to hide its existence from commie because he had a habit of replacing their junk food with random healthy alternatives, never taking into consideration that most of his food was supposed to be eaten while hot, and when it got cold it was disgusting and it just never microwaved right.

So qi pulled out a small box, it was one of those package ones where the servings were compartmentalised. Ancap always despised macaroni when he was high, so Ancom always got to eat it all.

Sticking it in the microwave Ancom turned back to the person qi would’ve declared qis greatest enemy. But now the darkness of night was casting a shadow of doubt on that fact. He would probably go back to being the vilest deplorable human to have ever walked the earth tomorrow. But right now?

Ancom waled over to where he sagged, hands clutching tightly to the blanket, gaze fixed a million miles away. Slowly Ancom reached up and pressed a hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention of lazy eyes. 

The microwave hummed in the background, drowning out all common sense thought. Leaving them both to just exist for a few moments.

Nazi could feel every fibre of his being, electrifying and melting. The degenerate’s touch was warm and soothing and so desperately reassuring. He had no clue how he had never sought the touch out before. How he had just sat and suffered in silence for so long.

They sat on the couch eating nuclear hot macaroni, watching one of Ancms overly colourful cartoons. Nazi didn’t even cair, he was comfortable and weak. He was burning with touch, contact, emotions he couldn’t begin to explain bubbling over like the tears pricking the corners of his eyes, tears already dribbling down his cheeks. He would never admit it in the morning, but he felt alive for the first time in weeks, months, probably years. 

And it was all because the degenerate wanted affection.

He could live with that, maybe even be willing to do whatever this was called again. 

And with this thought, his face pressed into the other’s neck as they stared enthralled by the tv show while still absently running their hands through unkempt hair.

Maybe tonight wasn’t the worst for Nazi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry if this made no sense, I think it has been in my half-done pile for a while now like it's always been worked on when my brain is slowly searching for hugs and it's just, weird.
> 
> thx for reading it tho!

**Author's Note:**

> so ya that's a thing...  
> pleas correct any grammar/spelling/pronoun mistakes
> 
> I was trying to change the perspective like 3rd person idk I'm not good at the lingo,  
> tell me if I fucked up...
> 
> love ya'll, have a lovely day  
> and go hug your pets (if you have one)  
> <3


End file.
